theory of fight
by notwithhaste
Summary: There is something about him, standing there at her door after a bad day, tired and battle-worn with nothing to lose, that feels too raw and too reckless. They never fair well with reckless./8.16 wishful thinking fic. Darvey


**A/N** : This was meant to be a little 8.16 tweet story, but it kinda outgrew that. Based on spoilers from some BTS and the new promo, mainly Donna's view pic of Harvey in her apartment, Hardman and some pictures from what I call the disbarrment room which I'm pretty sure is not the correct term. Pretty sure the show isn't going to go my way, but a girl can hope.

Hope you enjoy. :)

.

Harvey shows up at her door at half past nine in the evening after a very long day. A very long month, actually.

She's standing in the kitchen thinking about him and his predicament - their predicament - when she hears the knock. Sighing, she pushes herself off the counter and walks over to open the door.

He looks like he always does, a suit and a tie and his hair in place. But his eyes are tired and his shoulders slumped and he looks like a man who's been through the wars. And he has. They all have.

"Can I come in?" his voice is low and unassuming. He doesn't know if she's alone.

Donna doesn't think it's a good idea. There is something about him, standing there at her door after a bad day, tired and battle-worn with nothing to lose, that feels too raw and too reckless. They never fair well with reckless.

"Sure," she says against her better judgment.

She opens the door wider and he brushes past, the faint smell of his cologne tickling her nose, and she thinks she was right. She should have said no. She's still so bad at that, and she likes to think it's just old habits dying hard, but it's more than that. She doesn't think she'll ever learn to turn him away when he needs her. It's something she doesn't feel like addressing, the fact it's always her that he needs.

He's standing just inside her living room, staring at the rearranged furniture and she walks past him and towards the kitchen. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," she says gently because he doesn't. Cocking her head, she sighs, "We'll get through this, Harvey. We always do. Hardman won't get away with this and once you –"

"I don't care about that right now."

"You should."

He shrugs. "It's not why I'm here, Donna."

"Okay," she frowns, pulling on her cardigan and wrapping it around herself. "Why _are_ you here?"

He doesn't answer, instead looks around her apartment. "It's been awhile since I've been here," he muses quietly, and she doesn't miss how his eyes linger on the hallway leading to her bedroom.

"You're here because you missed my place?" she tries for light-hearted but the words sound hollow and wrong. She's trying to hit a note that belongs to a different time and a different them.

"Something like that."

"Harvey," she brings his attention back to her. "What's going on?"

"My life is in goddamn shambles. Everything I've worked for," he swallows. "Everything I care about is being stripped away, one by one." His voice is like his eyes, deep and steady, despite the edge of panic in his words.

"I know. I'm sorry this is happening."

"I guess," he continues. "It's made me realize what I can and can't afford to lose," he shakes his head, shrugs. "The firm. The licence," and his face pinches at that.

"It's not going to come to that," she reassures. She doesn't know that but she's not sure what else to say.

He nods, "I sure as hell hope not. I don't want to give the bastard the satisfaction. Not without a fight."

"Good."

"But if it does," he lifts his shoulders, pursing his lips. "Then I pack my shit up and I move on."

She doubts it's that easy. In fact she knows it isn't. "You don't mean that."

"It worked out fine for Jessica."

"You're not Jessica."

"Thing about Jessica is," he looks to the side then back at her. "When it came right down to it, she had her priorities straight. She knew what was worth fighting for and she fought like hell for it."

She wonders where he's going with this. "Why are you here, Harvey?"

He fixes her with a hard stare. "I'm taking a leaf out of her book and fighting."

Her brow knits, "What are you—"

He takes a step closer. "Everything is a giant mess right now. They're coming for me with everything they've got. I could lose it all but the thing that really fucking scares me is the fact I'm losing you."

She can feel herself gaping. It's out of the blue except it's not. This has been brewing for weeks. She knew she shouldn't have let him in.

It takes her a moment, but she recovers. "You're not losing me," she starts, her words placating. Avoiding. "Whatever happens with Hardman, you know I'll always -"

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

Nodding, she doesn't bother denying it. "So this is about Thomas."

He shrugs and somehow the fact he's not saying it makes it ten times worse.

"Jealousy is not the same as," she bites down on the word. It's already too much, him in her apartment late at night _saying things_ without throwing love into the mix.

"You don't think I know that?"

"Do you?"

"Why are you finding it so hard to believe I want this?"

"Oh, I don't know, Harvey," she throws her arms in exasperation. "Maybe it's because when I wanted to see what _this_ even was, you made me promise never to do it again!"

He wasn't expecting that, she can tell, by the way his jaw sets as he mulls it over. "I panicked."

"Yeah. Well," she spreads her arms, her palms to him. "I guess it just wasn't meant to be."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I don't know what to believe." She's so tired of being something he falls back on. "You come in here after the day you just had, with everything hanging in the balance, and I'm the person you go to when you need someone."

"And isn't that telling you something?"

"I can't be your security blanket, Harvey. You can't just show up here because you're uncertain about the future and you're reliant on me to make it all go away." She's exasperated and it shows, her voice rising. "I can't be that person for you anymore and you can't make our relationship more just so I would be."

He looks at her in a way she hasn't seen in years. He looks disappointed. "This has nothing to do with any of that and I think you know it," he says, his eyes hard and unwavering. "This isn't me running to your bed because my goddamn career is in jeopardy, Donna. My career is in jeopardy on a pretty regular basis, wouldn't you say." She guesses he has a point, but she's not about to admit that.

"Then what the hell is this, Harvey?" she snaps, her voice louder than she wants it to be. Too frantic and too desperate. Too goddamn revealing. She regrets the question as soon as it leaves her mouth because the way he's looking at her, he's going to answer it and she's not sure she's ready to hear it.

"What this is," he starts, "Is me out of my goddamn mind for weeks because you're moving on with someone else when I'm right the hell here, Donna. This is me out of my mind for months because you said you didn't feel anything, when all I wanted to do was kiss you again and prove you wrong."

"Stop," Donna warns, her voice adamant. He needs to stop. It's too much and she can't think. He's everywhere and she can't fucking _think_.

"No," he replies, his voice leaving no room for argument. "You wanted to know what this is, so here it is." He takes a step closer, "I've been dreaming about you, in my bed, for years. For years, Donna," he shakes his head like he can't quite believe it. She can sympathize. "And I don't mean strawberries and whipped cream and," he waves the rest of it off. "I mean everything."

Her breath hitches and her eyes close, against his words and the moisture behind her lids. It hits her hard. His words, but also the realization that she's been wanting to hear him say it for so long, she's convinced herself she didn't want it at all. It's overwhelming. It's zero to sixty in a breath and she doesn't know how to allow herself to go there after spending years actively avoiding it.

"Do you love him?"

"What?"

"I need to know if you love him, Donna."

"Why."

His expression shifts. "You know why," he says and it's deep and familiar; it's painful.

She swallows, shakes her head slightly. Not in answer, but rather in a plea not to blow up her life like this again. Not now. He's standing pretty much in the same spot saying the same words but they're not the same people they were back then. It took Donna a lot of time and a lot of discipline to come back from that. It took a lot of guarding her heart to get over the possibility of Harvey Specter.

He doesn't listen. He just never fucking listens. His lips are set and his face is determination. Donna looks down at his fingers kneading against his thumb and his palm in a familiar gesture. When she brings her eyes back to his face, she knows.

"I know I'm late to the fight."

"Harvey," she warns but it's weak.

"But I gotta at least throw a punch."

She should do something. She thinks she should move to stop him.

She doesn't.

It's him who moves instead, purposeful and desperate, striding across the room. She opens her mouth – to protest, maybe; it feels like the right thing to do – but no sound comes out and then his hands are grabbing her waist and pulling her flush against him. He doesn't give her time to process the fact he's touching her before his mouth is on hers in a kiss that's hard and messy and achingly familiar.

His bottom lip fits perfectly between her own, still slightly parted from her forgotten protest a moment ago. A sound does come this time and she thinks it sounds like surrender.

It sounds like finally.

Harvey must think so too, because he deepens the kiss. She's responding with open mouth and gliding tongue and needy fingers, grasping at his shirt and his tie and any part of him that she can grab, and it's not just him that's desperate.

He slows down the kiss, tries to make it less frantic, and she can tell by the way his fingers dig into her flesh and roam her sides that it's a struggle. His breath comes out in hot bursts of air over her lips.

"Donna," he says her name with such affection and care, it's more than a name and a title; it's an endearment. "Look at me."

She opens her eyes and she sees it before she hears it, obvious and unwavering and true.

"I love you, Donna."

He doesn't avert his gaze or turns around or leaves. He doesn't so much as blink. He's right here and he's not going anywhere and they've finally arrived.

She lets herself feel it then and it washes over her, all the years and all the want and all the plans she never allowed herself to make.

A slightest move and she's pressed against him, her hands on his neck and her mouth on his. The sound he makes is deep and it's relief. Taking her in his arms, he angles his head, his lips moving with urgent need, his tongue darting out to taste her. She knows they can't take it much further than this, but that doesn't stop her from pressing into him, is a little surprised to find him growing hard against her. He groans and she runs her nails over the back of his head.

"We need to stop," she mumbles into the kiss.

"Why," he asks, lips trailing across hers, kissing the corner of her mouth, sucking on her top lip.

She pulls her head back to look at him pointedly, "You know why."

His face that of discontent, Harvey rests his forehead against hers in resignation. "Yeah. I guess I do."

"I need to break up with him," she sighs, fingers playing with his collar. She lifts her head. "Once that's done," she trails off.

His eyebrows lift, "You're all mine?" The corner of his lips tugs so imperceptibly, she doesn't think anyone else would even notice it. She notices.

"You're all mine," she nods, raising an eyebrow and playing with his tie.

The smile is definitely noticeable now, "Sounds like a plan." He eyes the phone on her kitchen counter.

"I think I should do it in person."

"That's very decent of you," he notes as his thumbs rub circles on her hip bones. "Should I call Ray?"

"You want me to do it now?" She narrows her eyes at him. "It's ten o'clock at night."

"Past his bedtime?" he asks with a smirk, but she can detect a hint of annoyance.

"No," she draws out, her eyes narrowing. "But I don't really want to have that conversation right now."

His expression turns serious, his words simple and honest, "I don't really want to leave."

"I don't want you to leave," she says quietly.

"Maybe I can stay."

"Like a sleepover?" she suggests sceptically, wedging her finger in the knot of his tie, making it looser.

"Sounds innocent enough."

"In the same bed," she arches an eyebrow.

"We've done more than that," he points out, looking pretty pleased with that retort.

"Funny." Bowing her head, she finds she can't stop smiling. Deciding to get a grip, she extracts her fingers from his tie and pats his chest, taking a step back. "Anyway, the bathroom's over there if you want to –"

"I know where the bathroom is, Donna," he cuts her off, and her mind flashes to the other time. By the way he's looking at her, that was the intent.

"Okay then."

"Okay."

She watches him disappear down the hallway and she's left alone in the middle of her living room, suddenly feeling very tired. It seems like they've been fighting for their very lives in recent weeks, their fate still very much uncertain. It's more than that, though. She feels like she's been fighting this - her and Harvey - for as long as she can remember. Thomas was her last valiant effort to leave Harvey behind and move on with her life. She's failed, of course, and she wonders idly if she was setting herself up to fail all along, with dating a client and never quite letting Harvey go. She hears the sink and she hears him opening a cupboard; hears him curse when he knocks something over. She huffs, smiling. She's pretty sure failure shouldn't make her this happy.

Tapping her nails on the counter, she eyes the phone. Time to stop fighting.

.

When she makes her way to her bedroom, Harvey's sitting on her bed, taking off his shoes. She leans in the doorway, watching him.

He must sense her presence because he lifts his head to look at her. She smiles, "Find what you were looking for?"

"A spare toothbrush, and yeah," he loosens his collar. "I also rearranged your cabinet."

She bites the inside of her lip. "I heard."

"That's a crapload of small tubs and containers you have in there."

She almost laughs at the comment. He's stalling. "I guess it is."

"So," he looks at her.

"So," she parrots back.

Placing his palms on the bed and cocking his head, he gives her his cut-the-bullshit look.

So she does. She taps her cell against her shoulder and his eyes land on the phone. She lifts her eyebrows and he shoots her a questioning look.

Donna shrugs, "I did it over the phone."

His expression changes in an instant and he's on his feet before she can elaborate. She finds she doesn't need to when Harvey grabs her, his hand on the side of her neck, pulling her in and covering her mouth with his. His fingers tangle in her hair and his other hand pulls her in by the waist, his mouth open and hungry. She blindly feels for some surface to put her phone on and misses, hears it tumble to the floor as she weaves her arm around his neck.

He walks them back to her bed, sitting down when he reaches it and she steps in between his thighs, looking down as she runs her fingers through his hair. It's no longer in place, hair sticking out in each direction. He's taken off his suit jacket and loosened his tie and he's a dishevelled mess, nothing like the impeccable named partner the world gets to see. The one she's used to seeing. But there's a crinkle around his eyes and his smile is tender and _there_ as he looks up at her and she thinks that's a much better look on him, anyway.

Smiling, she slowly undoes his tie, lets it hang around his collar as she starts to work on the buttons. One by one she undoes them, meticulous and careful, and she thinks it's driving him nuts because she can feel his hands getting impatient on her waist, sneaking under her shirt as his thumbs graze upwards, pressing into the flesh just under her bra. He never takes his eyes off her face.

"Stop staring at me," she says as she undoes another button.

"Can't," is his pithy reply.

She feels his left thumb make its way inside her bra, and her breath hitches. "I'm trying to concentrate here."

"It's buttons, Donna, not theory of flight."

She fixes him with a look, "Do you want me to do this or not?"

Harvey has the audacity to shrug and smirk, "I'm much more interested in getting you undressed." His fingers follow his thumb inside her bra, softly brushing the sensitive skin of her breast.

She closes her eyes when he reaches her nipple and Harvey takes the opportunity to tug her forward and into his lap, his free hand grabbing her face and kissing her as he fully cups her breast with the other, her nipple caught in the crook of his thumb. She moans when he gives it a gentle squeeze, scrapes her nails behind his ear, digs her fingers into his shoulder for support. In retaliation.

He pushes her shirt over her head and she unhooks her bra. Pulling the garment down, Harvey's wet mouth closes around her nipple, his tongue swirling around it in maddening patterns. She buckles against him and he grabs her hips, thrusting into her. His tongue is lapping over her nipple and she throws her head back, moving against his very prominent erection. It's not enough and she needs to take off her pants – of all the evenings to wear pants – but she also really doesn't want to stop what they're doing.

"Fuck, Donna, this is," he mumbles into her skin, kissing across to the other breast.

"Hot," she says because it is.

He groans when she grinds down on him. "So goddamn hot." She feels his hand splay across her naked back, pulling her closer as she arches beneath his touch. Rubbing his five o'clock shadow over her nipple, he starts kissing around it.

She looks down at what he's doing to her, at his head between her breasts, his hair a stark contrast to her skin. Taking his face in her hands, she tilts it up and away from her chest. Something inside her tightens at the sight of him, looking up at her with an all-consuming want, and the need to kiss him is overwhelming. Breath hitching, she moves her hips deliberately along his hard length, runs her thumb across his bottom lip.

"You're overdressed," she comments, not taking his eyes from his. Still moving along his lap.

"And whose fault is that," he asks casually, but she hears the slight break in his voice.

Donna rolls her hips, pressing down. "I got," she bites her lip at the sensation of his dick against her _right there_. "Distracted."

He chuckles, but that comes out strangled, too. Grabbing her ass, he guides her along, hips buckling when her hand runs down his naked chest. "Donna," he growls, and it is a growl, guttural and wanting.

"Had enough of foreplay?"

"Thirteen goddamn years of it."

She chuckles but it's short-lived because next thing she knows, he's lifting her up and flipping them on the bed, her on her back and him on all fours above her. She pushes his shirt off his shoulder and he takes care of their pants and then he's naked on top of her, his dick hard against her stomach.

He's looking down at her, his breathing labored, his hands in her hair and in her sheets. His words from earlier echo in her head and she can hardly believe that this is something he's wanted for years and she missed it. She can hardly believe he told her.

She's glad he did.

Reaching between them, she takes him in her hand, giving him a slow stroke and he struggles so hard to keep his eyes open and on her. Like she might dissipate if he closes them.

She thinks it's funny. Harvey plays his cards so close to his chest, his feelings always his own, yet he's been more candid with her over the years than she ever dared to be. Her love for him always seemed too obvious to her, especially in their early years, and she wonders if she overcompensated. If she hid it a little too well, until even she became convinced there was nothing there.

He's become softer over the years. She's grown wearier. She wonders if they still fit. She hopes to god they do.

"You're thinking too much," he murmurs. "Considering what we're doing, that's not a good thing."

"Worried about your sexual prowess?" she asks, her fingers twisting around the head of his dick.

"A little," he breathes, his eyelids heavy.

"I find that really hard to believe," she says, dragging his cock to where she needs him, rubbing it against her wetness. "The great Harvey Specter," she teases, her tone light. "Second-guessing the effect he has on women," she muses, unconvinced.

"Yeah, but," he leans forward with a smirk, his nose touching hers. "You're not like every other woman. You're Donna."

And it's a phrase she's used countless times in countless different ways. This is by far her favorite version.

She positions them until he's almost inside her, swallowing against the instinct to conceal. All this time, she's been fighting against when she should have been fighting for. "I love you, Harvey."

He doesn't react except for the slight twitch of his jaw and the softening around the eyes and the barely-there caress of his thumb against the side of her hand. Anyone else would have missed it. Luckily for him, she _is_ Donna. And she's loved him for years.

He pushes inside, stretching her, and she spreads her legs and angles her hips, allowing him to fill her completely, her feet rubbing against his calves. He kisses her mouth and scrapes his teeth over her chin. Pulling her knee up, he thrusts harder, and she has press her mouth against his shoulder to keep from screaming when he hits the spot inside her.

Propping himself on his forearm, he looks down between them, and she follows his gaze to where he's slowly pumping in and out of her. She stifles a moan at the sight. His fingers move from her thigh to her clit and he rubs in time with the thrusts, smearing their juices over her pussy. The pressure starts building inside her, her hips bucking and he gets the hint, his fingers firmer against her flesh as he picks up the pace and makes her come.

She does cry out when her orgasm hits, his name and a whole string of curses, and it feels so good, falling apart in his arms.

He soon follows her over the edge, burying his face in the crook of her neck, and it's all _Donna_ and _fuck_ and _love_ _you_ and she presses her fingers to the back of his head, holding him there as he comes inside her.

.

"So, what happens now."

They're lying in bed, her on her back, him on his side, his arm across her middle. She runs her fingers along his forearm.

"Now we sleep," he murmurs into her shoulder.

"No, I mean tomorrow," she turns her head to look at him. "They're coming for you, Harvey."

"So let them come," he replies evenly.

She pulls her head back and frowns at him. His eyes are closed but his lips are stretched in a grin and so she knows he can feel her stare. "What aren't you telling me."

"You really want to talk about this now?" He pulls her closer but she's having none of that.

"Tell me."

He cracks open an eye to look up at her. "Let's just say," he shrugs, "I have a secret weapon."

She narrows her eyes at him and he smiles. He looks almost boyish. It almost distracts her. "No," she mouths.

"Yes," he counters. " _Now_ can we drop it?"

"Is he coming to New York?"

"Yes," he replies then lifts his head, answering her next question, "And yes, Rachel is coming, too." She smiles and he lets his head drop down on the pillow. "Happy?"

"Happier."

"Good," he says, reaching for her again. "Can we sleep now?"

She lays on her side, nestling back into him, taking his hand in hers and putting it against her chest. "Can he help?"

"I sure as hell hope so."

"Harvey."

"Donna."

"I'm not doubting you. I'm worried about you."

He's silent for a minute and she wonders if he's drifted off when he threads his fingers through hers. "It's Mike. And it's us. We kicked Hardman's ass before, we'll do it again."

She nods but she's not convinced, not this time. Sighing, she gives his hand a squeeze then she's extracting herself from under his arm and getting out of bed.

She hears him groan behind her, "Where are you going?"

"To make coffee."

His eyes follow her, "We're not sleeping tonight, are we."

"Nope."

"I'm starting to regret this," he grumbles as he reluctantly trails after her.

She smirks as she puts on the coffee, "No, you're not."

Tugging her hand, he pulls her to him, scanning her face. "No, I'm not."

She bites her lip and he pulls it down with his thumb, pressing a kiss there, then another. Cupping her face, he kisses across her cheek, catching her earlobe between his lips. He almost gets away with it, too, when the coffee machine makes a noise and Donna pulls away. "Nice try."

"Worth a shot," he shrugs but standing here in the light of the kitchen she can see he's not as unconcerned as he'd like her to think. He sighs, "They have me by the balls, Donna. But if anyone can help, it's Mike."

She nods. Extracting information from Harvey is like pulling teeth, so this is going well, considering. "I'll make the coffee and then you can tell me your brilliant plan."

"It's actually Mike's plan."

She eyes him as he rounds the breakfast bar, "You're really excited to work with him, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I missed the kid, so sue me."

"I think it's sweet."

That has him rolling his eyes, "Don't push it."

Smiling, she turns her back to him to get the mugs as he starts filling her in. She can't wait to see them pulling off the kind of shit only Harvey Specter and Mike Ross can do. She can't wait to see Mike and –

"Wait," she arches an eyebrow, handing Harvey his coffee. "You spoke to Mike."

Harvey nods as he takes his coffee. "Earlier today." She hums to herself, blowing away the steam from her coffee. Cocking his head suspiciously, he asks, "What?"

"Nothing," she purses her lips, hiding her smile behind the mug. "Nothing at all. Please," she gestures at him. "Continue."

.

She texts Mike later, on her way to bed.

 _Thank you for saying something._

His reply surprises her, but then she remembers it's probably only midnight in Seattle.

 _Knew you guys wanted to be together._

She rolls her eyes at the screen as she sets it on the nightstand.

"Come to bed," Harvey mumbles into the pillow, patting the empty space next to him. Her space.

Donna glances at the phone as she climbs into bed, Harvey's arm heavy over her middle.

She thinks maybe she can let Mike's smartass comment slide, just this once.

.


End file.
